


One more time

by marmolita



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s03e08 Twilight, F/M, Pon Farr, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2355329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/pseuds/marmolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the alternate universe of "Twilight," T'Pol asks Trip for a favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One more time

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Twilight but that's about it. There is only one Vulcan phrase in this fic, and I tried really hard to figure out how to translate English into Vulcan on a bunch of online dictionaries but ultimately failed, so don't bother trying to look up what it means. I grabbed the individual words from dictionaries but I doubt the grammar is anything approaching correct.

It's been a year since you took command of Enterprise. It still feels uncomfortable, sitting in that chair, but then nothing's been comfortable since the Xindi destroyed Earth. You check the chronometer -- 0500. You don't sleep well these days, haven't since the first Xindi attack, but your body has gotten used to operating on only a few hours a night. However, this morning you're up early for a reason.

You check the communique from T'Pol again and wonder why she wants to see you. You've barely seen her since she resigned her commission and moved down to Ceti Alpha with Captain Archer; sometimes you feel guilty about that. The Captain was your best friend, but seeing him so incapacitated -- it's just too hard. You're weak, too weak, and you can't deal with it so you avoid visiting.

As for T'Pol, well, you haven't quite been able to forgive her for the failure of the mission under her command. The sacrifice she made by becoming Archer's caretaker went a long way toward mending fences with her, but you're not exactly friends, which makes her message even more confusing. There's only one way to find out why she needs your help though, so you head for the shuttlebay and down to the surface.

***

The house is quiet; T'Pol informs you that Archer is still asleep. She's invited Phlox as well, and you're glad to see him. It's not the same in sickbay without him, but if he can find a way to cure the Captain then you're okay with giving him up. You didn't know if you'd be glad to see T'Pol, but you find you are. She's letting her hair grow out; it suits her, and together with her civilian clothes, it's almost hard to believe she was ever your captain.

T'Pol serves you both chamomile tea, and you sit outside in the small courtyard. She's nervous about something, whatever it is she asked you here for. Most people wouldn't be able to tell, but you know her better than anyone else except Archer, so you see the way she rotates her mug half a turn to the left before sipping her tea, the way she hesitates with the mug still at her lips, eyes cast down, before taking a second sip and placing her mug back on the saucer.

"I know you didn't invite us both here for a social visit," you say when it becomes clear she's not going to start talking without encouragement. "Your message said you needed help with something?"

"Yes," she says, folding her hands together in her lap. "It is a personal matter which Vulcans do not commonly discuss, so I ask that you please keep what I am about to tell you in the strictest confidence." You nod, and Phlox does too. You're interested now, curiosity piqued, because you've known T'Pol for years and she almost never lets slip any personal information. "As Doctor Phlox is somewhat aware, Vulcans experience a periodic mating cycle. It occurs every seven years."

"Mating cycle?" you ask, when she hesitates. This is getting more and more interesting, and you have a vague memory of discussing this with the group of emotional Vulcans you had encountered several years ago. T'Pol shifts uncomfortably and her cheeks take on a greenish hue -- the Vulcan equivalent of blushing. Phlox looks slightly discomfited but professionally curious.

"It is called the _pon farr_. Our ability to suppress our emotions becomes compromised, and we are driven to mate. If we do not mate, we die."

"That's one hell of a hormone surge," you blurt out. Periodic hormone cycles are one thing, certainly common enough in humans on a much shorter time scale, but the idea of dying if you don't have sex? Especially for a species as emotionless and logical as Vulcans, the thought is so bizarre as to be nearly unbelievable.

"Quite," T'Pol says, taking another sip of her tea.

"I take it you asked us here because your mating cycle is imminent?" Phlox asks, as direct and to the point as ever. T'Pol looks relieved.

"That is correct. It will be seven years next month since my last _pon farr_. In my incapacitated state I will be unable to care for Captain Archer. Doctor, I would like to ask you to take my place for the duration. It will last approximately one week."

"Of course," Phlox exclaims, cheerful as ever. "I would be happy to spend some time with the Captain."

You think for a minute, then decide why she must have invited you down for this discussion. "You want me to give you a ride back to Vulcan?" you ask, expecting her to nod, even though taking your ship back anywhere near Earth space is a huge risk. Instead, there is a flash of something indefinable in her eyes and she presses her lips into a thin line. Apparently, your assumption was wrong.

"I would not risk Enterprise by making such a journey, nor would I wish to leave our system unprotected." T'Pol has always been pragmatic, so you're glad to know she's aware of the risks, though her intentions are becoming less clear. "Additionally, I have . . . severed my ties with Vulcan by deciding to remain here." She looks more uncomfortable every second.

"Then why did you ask me to come down here?"

"I had hoped you would be willing to assist me with the mating ritual," she says, looking anywhere but at your face. You're so confused that your face probably looks ridiculous anyway.

"Assist you how?"

She hesitates, then says all at once, "By mating with me. It would only be for the duration of the _pon farr_ , there would be no further commitment." The green flush in her cheeks becomes more pronounced and you're pretty sure you're blushing too at this point, because that is not at all what you expected when you came down here. You glance at Phlox and he looks like he's about to start laughing. You're not sure whether to be flattered that she wants to have sex with you or offended that she probably is asking you because she thinks you're the person most likely to say yes, because she thinks you'll have sex with anyone who offers -- she's never let you live down that time you got pregnant, and her opinion of your sexuality has been clear since then.

Just to make sure of what she's asking before you bother to be flattered or offended, you ask, "You want me to have sex with you? For a week?"

T'Pol draws her eyebrows together, an expression you've long learned to identify as irritated. "If you're not willing, I can--"

"I never said I wasn't willing," you say, cutting her off. Maybe you're offended because T'Pol is right -- not that you have sex with everyone who offers, but that you'd have sex with her. Despite your differences, despite the strain between you ever since the destruction of Earth, she's still a beautiful, intelligent woman, and you're still an emotional, hormonal, human male. You let your eyes scan up and down her body. Yeah, you'd definitely be willing to have sex with her. How do Vulcans even have sex anyway? You've never bothered to even look up anatomy charts to see what her reproductive system looks like, you just assumed--

Okay, you'll be honest with yourself, you've imagined it before, but you always assumed she more or less had the same sex organs as a human woman. Well, you've got a month to do your homework.

***

When you get to the house, duffel bag slung over your shoulder, Phlox is already there. T'Pol is pacing the room in an agitated manner, completely uncharacteristic of her usual demeanor. She whirls toward you when you walk in the door and demands to know what took you so long. You're actually ten minutes earlier than she'd asked you to arrive, so clearly you're getting the first taste of what it means for a Vulcan to lose her ability to suppress emotions.

"Everything okay, Doc?" you ask Phlox, who nods in reply.

"Yes yes, I am quite prepared to take care of the Captain, and T'Pol has received her contraceptive injection and is free of any communicable diseases." You blink at him a couple of times, not expecting those details (and to be honest the thought of T'Pol having a sexually transmitted disease hadn't even crossed your mind), then turn back to T'Pol.

"Okay then, are we going to a bedroom or something?"

"There is a dwelling on the far side of the settlement. It should be sufficiently far from others to ensure complete privacy." Her voice is strained and you can see a bead of sweat forming at her temple. For the first time you are a little bit afraid of what might be unleashed when T'Pol loses all of her control.

"Then let's go." You try to keep your voice upbeat to mask your own nerves. As you walk toward the edge of the settlement, you find that she's keeping a pace much faster than normal. She's also standing particularly far away from you, farther than usual, and her hands are clenched into fists.

When you're about halfway there, you ask her, "Are you okay?"

She glances at you, and not just at your face -- her eyes rake over your body like she's sizing up a piece of meat, and you're not sure if it's the most disturbing thing you've ever seen or the hottest. "I will be soon," she replies, and fixes her gaze straight ahead.

As you start to approach the edge of town, you can hear her breathing accelerate. There are beads of sweat dripping down her face now, trickling over her collarbone and rolling between her breasts. You lick your lips absently. She raises a trembling hand to wipe the sweat out of her eyes. "Are you sure you're gonna make it all the way there okay?"

"I should have asked you to come yesterday," she says. "I did not expect the process to accelerate this quickly."

"Hang in there," you tell her, "we'll be there in just a few more minutes." And when you arrive? You've been thinking about this for weeks now, wondering what it would be like, but you find yourself having performance anxiety. What if you can't satisfy her? How often will she need to do it anyway? Are you really virile enough to handle a sex-crazed Vulcan for an entire week?

To distract yourself, and maybe her as well, you start talking about anything you can think of. You tell her how Malcolm was pretty excited to get a chance to be in charge while you're away, and how you had to be really vague about where you were going and why. You haven't taken a vacation in over a year though so when you told people you just needed some quiet time to relax they didn't push it. You tell her about the tweaks you've made to the engines since she left, and about integrating in the survivors from the rest of the fleet. She knows some of this already, because while you've been avoiding visiting the Captain you know that some of the crew come to see him occasionally when they have shore leave. Hoshi's been by every time she's on the surface, and you're sure she's caught T'Pol up on anything she really cares about.

It passes the time though, and takes your mind off the way that T'Pol is walking unsteadily now, drifting closer to you and then seeming to catch herself and step away again. Finally you come to the last cottage on the road, quite a way outside of town, and she heads toward the door. You hesitate a moment at the end of the walkway, then shrug your bag a little further up your shoulder and follow her in.

You've barely gotten the door closed when you find yourself slammed back against the wall, T'Pol attacking your mouth hungrily, her entire body pressed up against yours and her hand fumbling to find the zipper of your uniform. You grab her hips reflexively to steady yourself, and once you recover from the shock you kiss her back. She finds your zipper and yanks it down, then takes a step back to kick off her shoes, pull off her shirt and bra, and shimmy out of her pants and underwear.

"Can I at least put my bag down?" you ask to try to make light of the situation, mostly for your own sake. She's just as gorgeous as you imagined and never in your life has anyone been this uninhibited about how eager they are to have sex with you. T'Pol, uninhibited? It's pretty much the oxymoron of the century.

She shoves your bag off your shoulder along with the jumpsuit of your uniform, then she's kissing you again, sliding one hand down into your pants and stroking your burgeoning erection to full hardness (not that it needs much help). "Now," she murmurs against your lips, voice husky and cracking, "I need you in me _now_ , Trip," and if that isn't the fucking hottest thing you've ever heard in your life you don't know what is. She winds her arms around your shoulders and jumps at you, and you catch her with your hands on her ass as she locks her legs around your hips. There's a moment of struggle as you carry her over to the couch, because while sex standing up might sound great in theory it's not actually very easy to get a good angle, especially when you're not entirely sure where her vagina is in the first place. Your uniform is hanging off your waist and your pants are bunched up at your hips but somehow you get her over there without stumbling, despite the fact that she's still kissing your lips, your face, your neck, and _god_ she's so wet it's dripping down her thighs and making your grip on her slippery.

" _Now!_ " she insists again when you set her down on the couch, so you don't bother to take off the rest of your clothes or your shoes or do anything except get on your hands and knees over her and let her grab your cock and guide it to the right position. You draw in a sharp breath at the heat when you slide inside her, all the way in in one smooth motion, but it's nothing compared to her reaction. T'Pol grabs your shoulders so hard you're sure there'll be bruises later and cries out something in Vulcan that you don't understand, her whole body taut and trembling as she clenches around you. You're not positive but you're pretty sure she's coming already, just from having you in her, and if you weren't already more turned on than you've been in years you would be now.

It lasts just a few seconds though, and then she recovers, opens her eyes, and rocks her hips up against you. You take the hint and start to move, slowly at first because she's so tight and you don't want to hurt her -- and you'll be honest with yourself, also because you don't want to come too soon and leave her unsatisfied. But soon you've got your rhythm, her hips lifting to meet yours on every thrust. You move one hand up to feel her breast and brush over her nipple, and she gasps and arches under you. You're too tall to put your mouth on her nipple while you're fucking her, but you play with it with your hand, enjoying the way she reacts and squirms beneath you.

You did your homework on Vulcan anatomy so you know she has an internal clitoris, halfway up the vaginal wall on the ventral side; you hike her legs up over your shoulders to give you a better angle. You think you can feel the pressure of it rubbing back and forth over the head of your cock but the giveaway that tells you you've got it right is the way T'Pol starts moaning, a breathy exhalation with every thrust. Sometimes there are words in it, Vulcan words, and you don't know what they mean except that she's clearly enjoying herself.

You're starting to get close to the edge so you try to slow down a little, but the sounds she's making are getting louder and more enthusiastic, and seeing, hearing her reaction is like a feedback loop that makes you want to fuck her harder and faster. You bite your lip and force yourself to slow down; the disappointed sound she makes prickles all the way down your back and into your balls. "Sorry," you mutter, "but if I don't slow down I'm gonna--"

"Do it," she says. "Trip, do it, I want you to _tan-tor du nash-veh nei_." You don't have any idea what the Vulcan words she says are but you take her meaning and pick up your pace again, slamming into her harder and harder. She's so hot and tight and wet and it feels so damn good it's like your whole existence is focusing down onto the slip-slide of your cock inside her, the steady thump of your hips hitting hers, and she's shouting now, finding her climax, her muscles gripping you and squeezing you and making it just-- that-- much-- _tighter_ \--

Your hips stutter and come to a halt buried deep inside her as your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, and you dimly hear your own hoarse voice crying out at the edges of your consciousness.

T'Pol is breathing even harder than you are, but you catch your breath enough to start to pull away, dimly thinking of finally getting out of your damn clothes. You're stopped by her hand on your neck, pulling you down to kiss you again, slower this time, languid, her lips and tongue nudging at yours gently. She releases you and you stand up, strip off the sweat-soaked undershirt, shove your uniform and underwear all the way off and get out of your shoes.

You glance back at her and find the scene hard to believe. T'Pol is sprawled on the couch, one leg bent at the knee, the other hanging off the side -- one of her arms is bent above her head and the other rests at her hip, and she's watching you with an intensity you've never seen before in her eyes. More unbelievable than seeing her naked body sated and relaxed is the fact that she's--

Is she?

Yeah, you're pretty sure you'd have to say T'Pol is smiling. It's not a big smile, not anything approaching a grin, but there's a curve at the corner of her lips that's far too much to be a coincidence. "Um," you say. "I'm gonna get some water, do you want any?"

"Please," she replies, and while you walk over to the small kitchenette you can feel her eyes on you, tracking every move. You find some cups in the cabinet and open the refrigeration unit, finding it fully stocked; T'Pol clearly prepared in advance for your seclusion here. There's a pitcher of water inside and you pour two glasses. You down half of yours in a few big gulps, then fill it up again and head back to the sparsely appointed living area. T'Pol has barely moved except to draw up her legs and make a space for you. You suddenly feel irrationally self-conscious about your nudity as you sit beside her and hand her the second cup.

There are a few moments of silence as she rehydrates herself, drinking much faster than you've seen her typically, but then she's also been sweating a lot. You want to ask her if you did okay, but you're not sure how to say it, so you settle for, "I hope that, uh, wasn't too quick."

She arches an eyebrow at you, and her lips curve back into that sly half-smile again. "You performed admirably," she says as her eyes travel over your body again, hungry but not as hungry as before. You breathe a sigh of relief and find yourself smiling back at her. As good as the first time was, you're sure the next time will be better. Not just because you'll be a little more confident, but because it probably won't be quite as frantic and urgent, and you'll be able to take your time and enjoy exploring her body.

Her body which right now is unfolding from her position on the couch and climbing on top of you, and you won't be ready to go again for a little while but that doesn't mean you can't still take care of her. She straddles your hips and kisses you -- her lips and tongue are still cold from the water, but her body is hot where it touches yours. You set your cup down on the table beside you and slide your hands over her hips and around to her ass, which is round and firm, and she makes a satisfied little noise when you squeeze it.

You kiss your way down her neck and nip at her collarbone, then work your way to her breast and take one nipple into your mouth. It's pretty much the same as a human nipple, except for the dark green color, and her reaction is pretty much the same as a human woman's, especially since her emotional control is nearly gone. It may have been a while since you last were intimate with a woman but you still know what to do, and you tease her nipples, first one, then the other, until she's grinding herself against your thigh. You push her back onto the couch and start to make your way down her belly, resisting the pressure of her hands in your hair urging your head lower. She smells good despite how much she's been sweating -- you suppose Vulcan sweat must have different bacteria in it. Her skin smells a little like roasted chestnuts, and as you nuzzle into the curve of her hipbone you breathe her in deeply.

T'Pol is writhing underneath you, muttering something in Vulcan again that has your name mixed into it, trying to bring her hips up to your mouth since she's not making any progress pushing on your head. You smile and duck down lower but instead of putting your lips where she wants them you nip at her inner thighs. Maybe she's frustrated now but you know the anticipation will make her appreciate it more when you finally get there. Also, it gives you a chance to take a close-up look at her privates, which you didn't really get to see at all the first time. Reading up on Vulcan genitals is one thing but seeing them in person is another; the anatomy data you found describes an outermost slit that encloses the labia entirely (another adaptation to deserts and sandstorms to keep sand out of vulnerable areas, like her inner eyelids), but T'Pol is horny enough that hers is wide open. Her labia have more layers and folds than a human, and like her nipples are also green, but other than that look mostly the same as what you're used to, so you go ahead and dive in.

You tease your tongue around the outer folds, listening to her gasp to help you find the most sensitive areas. She seems to get more enthusiastic when you're closer to the front, so you focus your efforts there, tonguing the spaces between the folds of her vulva, licking your way into her opening. When your tongue dips inside for the first time she shouts and bucks her hips, squeezing her thighs around your ears, and for a moment you think you're going to suffocate with your nose buried in her hair and your mouth full of her. You get your hands on her thighs though and push them apart again and she takes the hint, giving you some room to breathe.

You go back in again as soon as you catch your breath, reaching as far inside her as you can with your tongue, and you can taste your own come mixed in with her thick juices. Your tongue can't reach far enough to get to her clit though, so you take one of your hands off her thigh to slide a finger inside her. Her hands tighten in your hair when you find her clit and rub over it, so you focus your attention there. You add a second finger so you can get the feel of the shape and size of it a little better, and you experiment with pinching and rolling it between your fingers. It must be good for her because when you do it she thrashes underneath you and her heel slams into your back hard enough to bruise. You try again, with less pressure, and her reaction isn't quite as strong, so you work on her like that for a while. After all, this time you're taking it slower, building her up, because you want her to come so hard that maybe the _pon farr_ will ease up for a little while.

Or maybe you just want to make her come hard because you want the satisfaction of knowing you can reduce her to a quivering mess -- or the satisfaction of knowing that _she_ knows you can do it, that maybe even when she's not under the influence of raging hormones she'll think of you when she touches herself, or that she'll think of this when she sees you. You thought you were over trying to prove to her that humans are just as good as Vulcans, but when it comes to pleasure, you're certain humans are the superior species and you're determined to make sure she agrees.

You bring her close to climax but don't let her reach it, holding her there without giving her that final push, with your fingers inside her and your tongue still flicking around her folds, until she's trembling all over, moaning continuously, clenching and unclenching her fingers in your hair spasmodically. Finally, finally, you squeeze her clit between your fingers a little harder and hold it there while you move your hand in and out, not far, just enough to give her clit a tug in either direction, and her hips lift up off the couch, held there for a long moment of suspended animation until she cries out, contracting around your fingers with more force than you expected. You ride it through with her, keeping your hand and mouth in place for wave after wave of her orgasm until she finally collapses back down.

You pull away from her and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand -- not sure it does much good though, because your entire face is wet and so is your hand. Your dick is starting to think about getting hard again too, but you ignore it. T'Pol is still breathing hard and her thighs are still quivering; you're not sure what she wants or expects from you. If she was a human, you'd probably spoon up with her until she recovered, then go clean up, then spoon some more, but do Vulcans like to cuddle? T'Pol barely seems to tolerate being touched much of the time, so would it be taking advantage to do anything other than the bare basics of what she needs?

Her breathing starts to get back to normal and you're a mess, so you get up instead of pushing the boundaries of this arrangement. You grab a towel from the kitchen to wipe yourself off with and offer it to her. She blinks at you as if she doesn't understand. You try not to be too cocky about it but you're pretty proud of yourself, because T'Pol looks like all the bones have been removed from her body and she's not going to be able to move for a week.

"I think I'm gonna take a shower, if that's okay," you say. She doesn't reply so you figure it must be fine by her -- it'll give her some time to recover in any case.

You start heading for the hallway and are almost there when you hear, "Wait, Trip." You look back over your shoulder to see her getting up from the couch. She arches an eyebrow at you and says, "I'll join you."

***

You fuck T'Pol in the shower, pressed up against the slick wall. You fuck her face down on the bed with her fingers clenching in the sheets, laying on the floor with her on top, bent over the dining table with your half eaten dinner shoved hastily out of the way. Sometimes you take care of her with your tongue and your hands, and sometimes she acts like she's going to die if she can't get your cock in her mouth. You have more sex in a week than you've had in the last seven years at least, since you shipped out on Enterprise.

The first day is the most intense. After a few couplings one after another, she recovers enough to allow you time to eat and rest, but she can only go an hour or two before she needs you again. She wakes you up in the middle of the night to ride you while you drift half-conscious in exhaustion, and afterward when she curls up beside you, you find out that Vulcans do cuddle after all.

Over the next few days the frequency gradually slows down, and in your downtime you talk. T'Pol is not usually the most talkative person, but without her emotional control she's more forthcoming. You talk about the _pon farr_ , why it came to be, how it works. She tells you about the toll that suppressing emotions takes, how the passionate and violent feelings that Vulcans have overcome with logic build up until they boil over. You would have been surprised, before, to hear Vulcans described as passionate, but after knowing T'Pol and her passion for her work for so many years, and now knowing her much more intimately, you believe it. She tells you how Vulcan children have to learn to suppress their emotions, and that it takes years to master them, which is why there is no _pon farr_ equivalent for children. The hormonal swings of sexual maturity combined with the ability to suppress emotions create an enormous amount of bottled up pressure that explodes in the first _pon farr_ , returning every seven years for the rest of a Vulcan's life.

You get the story in bits and pieces, drawn out during her more vulnerable moments after she's climaxed and before she tries to get her control back into place, but she tells you that Vulcan children are betrothed at an early age because of the _pon farr_ , that their intended mate is expected to be their partner even before the marriage takes place. Only mature adults can enter into marriages, so they typically take place after age fifty, by which point most Vulcans have already been through three mating cycles or so. You think about the time T'Pol told you about her arranged marriage, how she hadn't spoken to the guy in years and she'd only met him four times, and you realize those four times must have been nicely spaced seven years apart.

You talk about other things, too. You talk about Captain Archer, and Phlox's work on finding a cure. It's obvious T'Pol cares deeply about the Captain though even now she won't really admit it; you'd suspected when she made the decision to become his caretaker, but it's even more clear now. You're pretty sure she'd rather have him here than you, but clearly T'Pol's in no shape to be able to explain to him what's going on over and over as he forgets it twice a day. For a little while you feel guilty about the fact that you're not who she really wants to have sex with, but then she looks at you with a predatory gleam in her eyes again and kisses you, and you figure she could have asked anyone to help her out with this but she chose you, so there must be something about you she likes.

You finally talk about the failure of the mission to stop the Xindi probe, and it's far enough removed now for you to hear the reasoning for her command decisions without prejudice. Maybe it's strange pillow talk, but neither of you ever really leaves your work far behind, and when you're talking about work with her it almost feels normal to be here like this. You realize you've missed having her around on Enterprise, and maybe, just maybe, you come to terms with it and forgive her for a failure that wasn't really her fault anyway. It helps that she's pretty broken up about it herself, and without her rock-solid emotional control you can actually see that for once -- not just that she felt responsible for the failure but how much it hurt her that the crew blamed her even though she couldn't find any fault with her decisions. There may even have been some tears, but you already promised T'Pol you'd keep anything that happens during your time here completely private.

By the end of the week, her emotional control is stable again. In fact, for most of the last day you're not quite sure why you're still there -- she seems fine, back to her normal self. She reads by the big window in the living room, and you poke around at some work you brought with you. You have lunch together and talk about some improvements to the long-range scanners you've been thinking about. In the evening, she asks if you remember any of the neuropressure postures she taught you years ago. A refresher course follows, in the dimming light, and it's almost more intimate than the sex was because she's in control this time. In the end, you're laying on your back and she's sitting behind your head, reaching over you to work on neural nodes in your stomach, and you're so relaxed it takes you a minute to realize that she's leaned further down and her lips are on your skin, trailing down toward the waistband of your pants. She rubs the side of her face against you through the fabric, and your cock twitches to life. It's not like she hasn't gone down on you before, but this feels somehow different, like there's more going on than just hormones.

T'Pol starts to mouth at you through the cloth as you get harder, scooting down so she can reach which leaves her straddling your head. You slide your hands up her thighs and pull down on her hips to bring her closer to your face, so you don't have to crane your neck to put your mouth on her. She's wearing silk pajamas, and the fabric catches a little on the stubble on your face but feels good on your lips. You drop your head back for a moment, distracted by her taking the head of your cock into her mouth through your pants, then mouthing her way down the shaft and nuzzling her nose into your balls.

For a while, that's all you do -- just mouth at each other through your clothes, teasing, nuzzling, nipping, until both of you are starting to get frustrated. You tug at the waistband of her pants and she lets you pull them off of her, shifting her weight from one leg to the other so you can help her strip. You lift your hips up so she can slide off your pants as well, and then her mouth is on you directly, hot and wet. She lowers her hips down to your face too, and you grab a hold of them as you tease her with your tongue. It's not a position you use often, because you find it hard to concentrate on giving a woman pleasure when you're getting your cock sucked, but over the past few days you've learned a lot about T'Pol's body and she about yours, so you don't have to think too hard about what she likes.

The angle is a little awkward for her too, but she makes it work, alternating between sucking you entirely into her mouth and just sliding her tongue and lips up and down your cock open-mouthed. You both take it slow, not trying to bring each other to climax, just enjoying each other's bodies. Eventually it's not quite enough, though, and you nudge her down onto the floor next to you and turn around so you'll be face to face.

She doesn't have the same intense expression she's had all week when you've had sex -- there's still heat and desire in it, but without the edge of urgency or the lack of control. You kiss her, long and slow, and wonder what might have happened between the two of you four years ago if Archer hadn't gotten sick.

What's past is past and she's here now, shrugging out of her top and pulling you on top of her, her breasts soft against your chest as you settle between her legs and slide inside her.

You have sex slowly, but it's no less intense. You can feel every inch as you move in and out through her slick heat, mirrored by the heat of her mouth on yours, the slippery tangle of your tongues. Her body lifts up to meet yours, her hands tracing patterns on your back; you run one hand up and down her side with your weight braced in your other hand, and pull her leg up between you. The build-up of tension in the pit of your belly is gradual, coiling hotter and tighter as your bodies keep moving together, as your breathing speeds up in sync with hers. She's quiet this time, not like before, but you can hear the catch in her breath and feel her tightening up around you so you know she's as close as you are. Sweat breaks out all over your body as your climax draws closer, but you don't rush, don't push to make it there, because you know it's going to be worth the wait.

What finally pushes you over the edge is T'Pol, making a tiny breathy sound when she comes that triggers an avalanche inside of you, crashing into her. It's not sudden and powerful like it's been between you before, but it's just as good, better even, because it seems to last forever, a second, a minute, an hour.

She kisses you again when it's over, her face still as composed as it was before you started, and you wonder whether she's still under the influence of her hormones or whether she just wanted to have sex with you one more time.

***

It's been seven years since you were last here but you remember it like yesterday. T'Pol still looks the same as ever, barely aged since then, but your hair has a lot more gray in it these days. Since Phlox is on Denobula finishing up his calculations for Archer's treatment, she's asked Hoshi to stay with the Captain without really telling her much about the reason. She's planned better this time -- there's no sign of her impending condition when you arrive.

You're quiet on the walk to the outskirts of town, thinking about the last time, thinking about the years in between, the several times you came down to visit and ended up in her bed, the last time you came to visit and found Archer finally in her bed instead. She stops at the beginning of the walkway to the cottage and regards you.

"Trip, I--" She hesitates uncomfortably.

"It's okay," you tell her, "I understand." T'Pol looks at you like you couldn't possibly know what she was going to say, then decides to accept your reply and walks ahead of you into the house.

You shrug your bag a little further up your shoulder and follow her in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [poehlersehlat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/poehlersehlat) and [vongchild](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vongchild) for beta help and encouragement!


End file.
